


polite company

by 1once



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Sansa Stark-centric, every tongue that rises against sansa shall fall!!!, sansa stark defense club
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:53:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23342014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1once/pseuds/1once
Summary: oneshots for sansa’s literal ride or diesinspired by”sansa surrounded by ppl who will FURIOUSLY defend her is making me cry”
Relationships: Arya Stark & Sansa Stark, Sansa Stark & Brienne of Tarth, Theon Greyjoy & Sansa Stark
Comments: 3
Kudos: 48





	1. fall out

**Author's Note:**

> while writing this i just pictured a sansa edit w beef flomix by flo milli playing and i imagine thats how arya, theon, n brienne see sansa like everyday

Nothing in the world could have stopped Arya.

Her eyes were blazing in anger, a deep fury that made her grey eyes darken to near black. The fists that commonly fly are tightly clenched and held back by the faintest of self restraint, which she is actually losing by the second. Even the way she is standing makes her more threatening. Her lips were still dripping with rage, the words unapologetically in the air.

In another world, she would have never spoken that harshly. Especially not to Jon, _her favorite brother_ , but Arya is currently not in that world. It might be ridiculous, but she thinks- no, she _knows_ , that there will never be a world where she will tolerate any type of ill talk about Sansa.

The disbelief on his face just makes her want to wipe it off even more. 

“Arya,” her mother says sharply, her breath caught in her throat at the unexpected conflict.

Arya had looked forward to this dinner. She couldn’t stop jittering for weeks at the thought of Jon dropping by at the house after months of deployment beyond the Wall. She wanted gifts, she wanted stories, and most importantly she wanted his hug, not that she would ever admit to the latter. There was something about him that made her feel safe, like she could be the small baby sister she actually looked like. 

And at first, the reunion was not a wreck. His eyes were distant and centuries older than his age, but when his gaze landed on Arya, there was no one but the two of them. His bags dropped to the floor and Arya sprinted to his arms and everything felt so right when he embraced her like it was the last day on earth. There were unapologetically tears, between the two of them and for everyone watching, but neither cared. It was picture perfect. It was home.

Of course everyone was in attendance. No one would have missed it for anything. Jon tried to hold his face together when he fell into the arms of their parents, but it failed terribly. He was ready to shake hands with Robb but that was turned away with a deep hug. Sansa literally melted into Jon’s embrace, her relief seeping into the air. Bran gave him a watery smile as Jon bent down to hug his not so little brother. Rickon was already bouncing with excitement when Jon finally made it to him.

Everything was perfect. From the car ride, to the conversations, to Ghost running Jon over with a momentum of a few dozen overdue licks. Arya didn’t want anything to change. There was nothing to change.

At least, not until Sansa had to excuse herself in the middle of dinner. There had been an unspoken rule for absolutely nothing to take away precious time with Jon home, but the phone call was ridiculously important. It was about work, and directly under Sansa’s responsibility. Due to its urgency, she should have dropped everything and went to the office. But she was extremely adamant about staying, and completing it at home. 

She murmured a quick apology, mostly towards  
Jon, promising to return in a few minutes. Her serious professional voice on the phone and noticeable absence made it clear she wouldn’t come back until it was finished.

Fifteen minutes in, it was nice. It was pleasant, as pleasant as Stark dinners go. Jon bites into some pot roast when he muses about Sansa’s new job at the company, of which was his former position. His tone held a mocking and amused air to it, which made everyone stiffen. He even tossed the teasing to Arya, expecting an easy agreement.

That was when Arya saw _red_. 

She doesn’t remember what she said. Maybe that was a good thing considering the way her father’s jaw clenched and her mother’s eyes opened wide in shock. Even her brothers were sitting in astonishment at the variety of language that fell so easily from her tongue, aimed at Jon nonetheless.

“She’s the smartest person I know,” Arya bit out, her words dangerously sharp. With the last ounce of her self control, she excuses herself from the table with half eaten food left on her plate. She tried to leave calmly, but her steps felt heavy with fury and her body moved like it could explode at any moment.

She doesn’t slam the door when she goes outside, even when it’s everything her family expects. It pleases her that she doesn’t give in to her family’s expectation. With this small bit of satisfaction, she can only wonder what Sansa felt. Her sister has been through hell and back and she did not rise through the company ranks to be belittled like that. She works too hard to deserve that. Thinking about it makes her livid again so she breathes in slowly, just the way Sansa taught her to.

Arya didn’t even plan to see a distressed Sansa pacing outside underneath the Weirwood, giving vivid instructions to the person she was talking to on the phone. Arya merely wanted air that she desperately needed to calm down. Maybe she would even visit her hidden stash of alcohol she buried when she was sixteen, just to soothe her raging blood. 

Instead, she sits on the steps and watches Sansa. Later on, when everything is solved and smoothed out, the Starks would have found out that Sansa was handling an invaluable partner who was on the brink of backing out of the contract that they had worked on for months. Not only did she keep them from backing out, she extended the deal to benefit the Starks even more. Others would have jumped on the nearest plane to beg so the deal would have been saved, if not salvaged, but Sansa did not have to do that. She negotiated through a phone, at the comfort of her home because to put it simply, she’s good at her job. 

Sansa Stark is many things.

Intelligent. Thoughtful. Kind. 

Underestimated should not be one, and yet here it is, right inside the Stark household by her own brother.

Sansa has been through so much, and it feels so unfair that it pricks angry tears in her eyes.

Arya is not her sister and therefore she can’t act upon her feelings, but oh dear gods, she can /feel them. The ridicule, the belittlement, the mocking; it fills Arya with a fierce rage at how ignorant others can be. Her sister deserves more, and the support should be coming from their family most of all. 

Arya almost gets up again just to tell Jon another piece of her mind when she feels a warm body slide down to sit next to her. In her mental rendition of biting off Jon’s head with her bare teeth, she did not realize Sansa finished the phone call with a calm sigh and a brisk walk back home when she caught sight of Arya. 

“Hello twat,” Sansa greets. They’re in their late twenties and they would be damned if they let go of their childish nicknames.

“Bigfoot,” Arya replies. Her voice is weak and drained, completely unlike how she sounded just moments ago. Sansa scoots closer to Arya, already sensing a trouble within her. The flame of anger that overwhelmed Arya blind already diminished into a pit of heavy sorrow within seconds. It was not for the words she had said, but at the ache of Sansa’s obliviousness to the situation.

In her heart, Arya knows that she should tell her what happened. It would explain why she would be out there, and it would ensure that Jon and Sansa have this discussion. It would also possibly save an awkward situation in the future, with Sansa returning back to the dinner table without finding out Arya cursed Jon to the next century for her.

She was never good with words, and this topic did not come easily, especially out loud. But it needed to be done. Arya would literally burn before letting Sansa go back inside blind. Her chest drums in uncertainty as she summons the courage to find the words and speak. However, Sansa nudges her shoulder before she can even open her mouth. 

“Whatever you’re going to say,” Sansa says softly. Her eyes are on the sky, carefree and relaxed. “Don’t.”

Arya can _feel_ the exact moment her heart cracks in two. It was impossible for Sansa to figure out exactly what Arya was racking her brain so hard for, but she understood her enough to know that Arya felt anguished. For that reason alone, Arya wants to disappear into a cloud of smoke. Even if she were able to do that, Sansa would figure out how to track her down because she can read her better than anyone.

They were never the sisters that would comb each other’s hair and go shopping. They would rather fight to the death and shave each other’s heads than be those type of sisters. But at some point of living together again, not as children but as grown adults, there tipped a point.

No more was Sansa’s dismissive attitude towards her. Arya’s blind anger towards Sansa was disappeared. Finding each other after a long period of absence cured a pain that brewed so early in their childhood that they don’t even remember why there was conflict in the first place. 

Somehow the two of them bonded in a way that can’t be explained except perhaps by the single word: sisterhood. 

Yes, they would tattle on each other to their mother even if they were fully grown with decent jobs. That would never change the fact that they would plan a joint scheme to murder anyone who tried to hurt the other. 

For now, Arya allows herself to listen to Sansa. She lets her be the older sister; to guide her. 

“Alright,” Arya agrees shakily. She looks up at the sky and observes what Sansa was watching so intently; the splatter of the stars and the glittering of the moon. “Alright.”

Not a moment later, Arya talks again. She never liked silence, especially when her mind fills it with wittier comebacks that she should have said during her earlier outburst. She would have made Jon cry into their mother’s arms. 

“Want to come with me to find the bottle of Dornish I buried somewhere in the backyard when I was 16?”

Sansa’s smile was blinding. It was worlds better than watching the boring view of some dim dots and pale circle in the sky. It was even better than the alternative of seeing Sansa’s face fall if Arya had told her what had happened.

She would choose her smile any day. 

“Never would I have thought you would ask me instead of Jon to find it,” Sansa confesses, her face giddy with happiness.

For a split worried second, Arya thinks Sansa might already know of the whole ordeal. She has this weird thing about knowing everything that happens, as it’s happening. It’s partially why she’s so good at her job. Arya always suspected that it’s witchcraft, but she pushes that out of her brain. Now, she could care less about what Jon had said. Sansa’s eyes are glowing far too bright with happiness to think about such a sour thought.

In an act that is so purely unlike her, Arya pulls Sansa up and loops an arm through hers. The affection widens Sansa’s eyes, but Arya pushes through the embarrassment with a blinding smile of her own. It’s all she can offer.

“Yeah, well Jon doesn’t knowing anything,” is all Arya says, which makes Sansa almost howl with laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> expect to see theon or brienne’s chapter next... or not idk i never make chapter fics fhskdbsns


	2. just the same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heads up for mentions of r*msey. nothing is explicitly stated but the implications are there so tread lightly friends

He doesn’t even remember what he was doing.

On a late Saturday night, there were a number of things university students could be doing. Some were catching up on badly needed sleep, or drinking away their stress at the local pubs. Theon Greyjoy knew almost everything about going out and the intricacies of disappointing family, but if he was asked about what he was doing during that night, only his blank confused face would be his answer.

He couldn’t think of anything else besides the text message he receieved. 

_Sansa_.

Thoughts of purely her swirled in his mind, relentlessly and nearly unbearably. The Drowned God must have been on his side because he should have gotten arrested by going 80 through the streets, _through red lights_ , but the crawling feeling of need on his skin urged him to go even faster. His leg twitched and it took everything in him to not floor the gas. 

The world was a flash of bright lights and noise but he paid no attention. There were beads of sweat rolling down his neck and his grip on the steering wheel was so tight that his knuckles turned white. His entire body was tense and rigid and there was not a moment he breathed that did not contain the weight of the world. 

In just a few minutes, he managed to drive across town that would normally take half an hour. No amount of honks or glares could have made him stop, and even the way he parked was so horrendous that some strangers gave him dirty looks for it. He jumped out of his car, his eyes wild and his heart beating furiously fast. It wasn’t a crowded street but it was definitely not asleep; there were a few people still out walking and the colored lights seeping out of a high window with music blaring out can be heard from a few blocks away.

His heart hammered at the thought of going at such great heights to find her, along with the chance of crossing paths with _him_ , but blessedly, he did not have to.

Sansa Stark sits on the sidewalk, her flaming red hair in complete opposition of her pale face. Under the streetlight she looks like a pile of bones, and Theon staggers towards her. She’s hugging her body close, tightly, and her eyes are focused on the ground. It’s emptier than he wanted to see, and there’s a painful ache that reminds him of his own eyes on some nights that by chance, memories eat him alive. 

She glances up, and that is all it takes for him to scoop her in his arms.

His body is still tense but he can finally exhale the breath he’s been holding in since the moment he got her text. The moment his skin touches her cold arms is when he suddenly remembers what he was doing prior to coming here. Theon was wasting away Saturday night while watching old reruns in nothing but his boxers, until his phone rings. He almost disregards the message entirely until the name from the corner of his eye catches his attention. He had no plans to leave his apartment after going head first into classes for nearly a week, but Sansa’s name stuck in his chest uncomfortably. When he finally did read it, his heart plummeted deeper than he ever thought it could.

_ramsey is here_

_take me home_

_please_

It wasn’t a demand as it was more of a necessity. Theon refuses to delve into the haunting memories he has of _him_ , nor will he allow the terrifying thoughts of what he has done to Sansa into his mind. They have been through too much to let it consume them at this moment, especially since at how a single mention can devastate Sansa like this. All that is important is in his arms right now; it doesn’t even matter if she was trembling so much that she was nearly still, or how her head just nuzzled deeper into the crook of his neck like she was trying to find shelter.

There was a defeated sense in the way she landed in his arms. It was more the reason for him to hold her tighter; he rubbed her back and murmured words into her ear. It was rubbish what he was saying, meaningless in the light of things, but it all has the same common thread of the most important things. 

_You are more_

His words unsaid are sweeter, so he repeats those three words until her mind is brimming with thoughts that truly make her up, and not what _he_ did to her. It is truth when she thinks about how she is _more_ than what he left her in. She is _more_ than the fragments he caused her. She is simply _more_ , and that thought settles until she doesn’t have to question it. Theon says all of this unspoken while murmuring those three words, allowing truth and imagination swirl together until they feel safe.

When they walk back to his car, both are still shaking, but with just enough strength to walk normally. He starts the engine and he wants to leave the area as fast as possible. Theon sees her gaze out of the window, her eyes lacking the light and passion he knows Sansa is overfilled with. He doesn’t mourn the absence, but instead he patiently waits for it to return. He cannot stop the sun setting as much as he can stop the darkness that spreads when the moon rises. 

“I’ll get you home,” his voice is as small as he feels.

Nevertheless it is still a vow.

The light in her eyes doesn’t immediately come back, and he assumed that. But she takes his hand, interlaces it with her own fingers, and holds on tightly. The look she gives him is everything in the world, so untarnished and pure, yet so _vulnerable_. She gives him the smallest of nods and that was the signal to go off to the races.

He doesn’t increase his speed like he did when he wanted to find her at all costs. Instead, he rolls down the windows so the wind and life of the night can breeze through her. They go through streets that are jumping with life and noise, until the laughter of the masses can lull Sansa back from her tormenting thoughts. They go through streets that give the view of the entire city lights, where instead of people, they pass the calls of animals who thrive in the night.

It should have taken them less than 20 minutes for Sansa to return home. With all the detours, all the views, they park in front of her apartment after nearly an hour of driving. 

Before he can even turn off his engine, Sansa tightens her grip on his hand before she jumps to embrace him. It was unexpected, but her warmth envelops him so much that he can’t help but close his eyes in comfort. 

“You’re not alone,” she reminds him. 

He can’t help but shudder, something close to a sob but not quite. Only a few people knew of what happened to him, far less than those who knew of what happened to Sansa. However, when she said that, nothing mattered because she _recognized_ him. It wasn’t that he didn’t receive support from what happened, but this wasn’t from an outsiders point of view. She knew exactly the demon that haunted him and that made him feel like he can finally exhale the breath that felt trapped in his lungs for so long. 

He just needed to be reminded to breathe.

“God, Sansa,” he mutters, hugging her so tight he feels scared that it might be too much. But her grip is deathly, and he feels safe. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you, Theon,” she replies softly into his ear. She lets go of him, and with one final grasp of his hand, she opens the door to exit.

The wind from outside makes him shiver, but it wasn’t as cold as her sudden absence. Her flaming red hair was the only way he can see her as she moved towards the doors, and something in him told him to do something. At least just for this moment.

“Sansa!” he called out, and she turned around so fast he thought she was actually expecting him to call her name. Theon held his gaze despite feeling nervous. still, he spoke clearly. “Is it alright if I stay at your place?”

He gulps uncertainly. Still, he says the words that ache against his chest.

“If you’ll have me?”

For a mere moment, he regrets saying it. She must be so very tired from everything. From the party to her excruciating classes to even working her job, Sansa must have craved her own space. He opens his mouth to take it back, but Sansa started walking back towards his car. Her face was a shadow of her radiance, not quite there, but not completely gone either.

“Of course, Theon. I would love that.” Besides the glee in her voice, she also sounded grateful.

As he walked with her, each step calmed anything that was brewing in his chest. Even when they both crashed on the couch, the reruns that Theon was watching what felt so long ago playing in the background, the easiness of comfort never left. They laid on opposite ends of her couch, under the same blanket, lazily sharing ugly stories of their childhood.

After a particular messy anecdote involving Robb and a girl from highschool, he can see the heavy weight on top of Sansa’s eyes. Daylist is just barely breaking through. They’ve been talking for hours, and yet he didn’t feel that time slip away. Theon couldn’t say the same about their sleepiness. Their smiles stay on their faces while they slowly close their eyes, breathing softly and easily.

“You saved me,” Sansa says out loud. His eyes have been closed for a while, so she must think either he’s asleep or she is purposely saying this out loud for him to hear. “Did you know that? Of course you do. I’ve said it a million times, but thank you Theon. You saved me and brought me _home_.”

It seemed so obvious, but her message was deeper. The night he dropped her off at Winterfell felt like he defeated a war by himself. They went through unspeakable things, unbearable moments together, and yet when he brought her to the Stark doorstep, all of that pain melted away. Her eyes returned back to life as she watched the outline of her home come closer until she was standing on its grounds.

And when Theon returned to Winterfell, her eyes radiated the same glow when she first arrived home. He is synonymous to home to her.

“You have me,” Theon says, and he doesn’t even know if she’ll listen due to how quiet his voice was. It still is the truth whether she hears him or not.

He is at home as much as Sansa is.

No amount of sea salt running in his veins could ever change the fact that he is a Stark through and through. Whether it is day or night, if Sansa calls, he’ll come.

After all, that is what a member of a pack does.


End file.
